


Colors

by Oxidane



Category: Free!
Genre: I have no idea what I'm doing, M/M, Makoharu Fanfiction Festival, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oxidane/pseuds/Oxidane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Haru needed was a little inspiration for clearing his art block. Okay, maybe a little luck too.</p>
<p>Written for the MakoHaru Fic Festival! Prompt: Makoto becomes Haru's accidental art project, bonus if they don't know each other yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

> I've only written one or two fics before, but this prompt was too fun to pass up. Hope you enjoy and sorry for any mistakes!

 

**black**

"No."

"But I'm bored and you've been locked up in your house for nine hundred thousand days now. Let's go somewhere."

"No."

"I'll call Nagisa and then you'll be screwed because that little shit will drag you out whether you like it or not."

"Then I'll tell Sousuke about that one time y-- "

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT, shut up. No Nagisa, I get it.” Haru hears Rin sigh into the receiver and he can’t help but feel a little smug about it. "Look, just get out of the apartment and maybe inspiration will punch you in the face or however you artsy people work. Let's go to a coffee shop. We can sit in a corner and you can let your inner hipster loose."

"That's you. Not me," Haru says and taps his pencil idly on his desk.

"Are you calling me a hipster?"

"I'm going to hang up, Rin."

"Okay, okay. What if we go swimming then? Who cares if the water is cold as fuck, let's go."

_Ah_ , Haru thinks, _there it is_. It was only a matter of time before Rin used what Nagisa dubbed as ‘The Trap Card’, whatever that meant. Using swimming as an excuse is the only thing that can make Haru hesitate and Rin knows this. He knows it too well because Haru can almost feel the hubristic aura of triumph through the phone. It’s annoying.

 "I can't. The sketches are due tomorrow and I still have nothing," he replies, and every inch of Haru's skin feels dry. He's been denying himself time in the pool to get his drawing assignments done, but nothing he sketches feels right. Not the person, not the movements, not the lines, nothing. Just a bunch of soulless triangles and cylinders. It’s the first time he’s ever experienced art block (that’s what Rei called it) and it feels like the equivalent of overcooked mackerel. No, it was definitely worse because at least overcooked mackerel was still edible.

 "Haru said no to swimming?! It’s the beginning of the end as we know it. Goodbye world, may I become a pro swimmer in the next life too. Tell my sister I love her, tell Sousuke I -- "

Haru interrupts. The dramatics has him cringing and he doesn’t want to know the end of that sentence anyway. “You should think about a career in soap opera instead of the Olympics.”

Rin starts protesting. Haru spins his pencil to drown him out. The force is a little much on a turn though and it rolls off his desk onto the open balcony. It stops short of taking a three floor free fall. He thinks about leaving it there but Rin is still babbling on about being hurt so he goes to retrieve it, ignoring every ‘ _hey Haru? Haru, are you listening!? Haru!_ ’. Why he hasn’t hung up yet is beyond him at this point.

He sighs and bends over, about to pick up the pencil when he hears a voice ring clear from two floors down. It’s calling for a ‘Sorata’ and curiosity takes the best of him.

_"Alright you can stop ignoring me now.”_

Haru peeks over the railing, the pencil long forgotten when his eyes land on the figure below who has now, he notes, progressed from calling out Sorata to making kissing noises into the air. He’s intrigued by the display.

_“Did you die? Are you dead?”_

He can’t really tell from this position but the guy seems tall, like basketball tall with broad shoulders and a wide back hidden beneath a fitted tee. A black apron is wrapped around his waist and Haru thinks he spots a logo on it he can’t quite read from this angle. He notices the mess of light brown hair next, sun-kissed and sticking out in every direction that screams bed head all over. It’s only his profile Haru can really see, but the features seem sharp and young. He probably isn’t too much older than himself.

_“Haruuuuuuuuuuuuu? Haru!!!!”_

Sorata, Haru presumes, emerges from the bushes minutes later. He watches, amused, as the guy’s body language changes and suddenly he’s on the floor, holding out his arms and making weird noises again. Not that the cat is any different. It’s all over him like he’s the last piece of mackerel on Earth and he won’t give it up to anyone else. The image as a whole makes Haru’s fingers twitch. He wants to sketch, wants to capture the scene with lines and splotches of color he’s not even sure he can achieve given all the palettes in the world. There’s something about the golden tone to the stranger’s hair that stirs him.

Haru doesn’t believe in things like fate or coincidence, but maybe, just maybe, he’d start to believe a little after today.

_You’re a dick, you know that?”_

This was it. This cat loving stranger was the inspiration he’d been waiting for.

“Rin. I’m going to draw,” he says, plainly, and ‘ _What the hell Ha--_ ’ is the last thing he hears before he snaps the phone shut. Haru’s about to toss it back inside when he thinks better of it. It’s kind of creepy, yeah, and he probably shouldn’t be taking pictures of strangers but it’s all in the name of art, right? Right. So he snaps a quick, discreet shot just as the guy makes a strangled noise and bolts away, something about ‘ _Oh crap!!! I’m late_ ’ echoing behind. Haru nearly cracks a smile but stops himself when Sorata looks up. There’s a silent exchange between him and the cat then - of what? He doesn't know. Maybe he’s finally lost it from being cooped up inside for so long but he swears the cat nods to him. So he does what any sane person would do and lifts a finger to his lips, willing his new accomplice into secrecy before going back into his apartment.

There’s not much to his place. Rei had deemed it ‘barrenly beautiful’ while Nagisa insisted it was ‘way too empty’ and had dragged him out to buy furniture despite Haru’s protests that he only needed a bathtub. There was something about unpacked boxes not being used as tables too, but he tosses his phone on one anyway. He doesn't need the picture, so with the image still fresh in mind he heads to the one room that’s the juxtaposition to his very existence.

The floor is littered in sheets of paper, a single easel sits in the middle of the space whereas canvases line up on the far ends from wall to wall. There are art supplies strewn everywhere, on every shelf, every box, every surface. A small desk occupies a corner, and that’s where he settles for the rest of the night. With fingers sliding across blank pages in a cadence of art, recalling each detail and every visual sound of the scene now memorized.

The black apron, the knowing cat, the figure who demands attention and yet repeals it all the same.

It turns into a routine after that.

 

**red.**

"You know Makoto?"

Haru looks up from his homework and sighs. He hates when Rin grabs his sketchbook without asking. He hates when anyone grabs his sketchbook without asking. It's rude and intrusive. The only reason he doesn't complain is because it's his best friend and Rin won't listen anyway, so why waste his breath. "No," is the curt reply.

At least he doesn't think so. Names are too troublesome to remember half the time and unless there's a reason for it, Haru doesn't bother.

"Right. Well, this…," Rin slides the sketchpad across the table and taps an impatient finger over Haru's broad-shouldered art project, "is Makoto. Tachibana Makoto. He's all over your damn notebook, sketchbook whatever this is."

Haru turns the name 'Makoto' over in his mind and something in his stomach tenses. He's been drawing the guy for days now, perfectly content to keep his _sort-of-kind-of-maybe_ muse nameless. A name made things personal. A name made things complicated. A name meant the guy is no longer an object, but an actual person which kind of makes Haru feel like a creeper now for having his picture hidden within the depths of his phone. "Doesn't mean I know him."

"Did whatever-the-hell your teacher's name is use him as one of your class models or something? Wouldn’t be surprised. Guy’s built like a mack truck. "

"Amakata and no."

Rin leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head and the stare he throws at Haru has apprehension trickling down his spine. He knows this look well. It brings nothing but dumb ideas, headaches, and sometimes makes him question Rin's mental state which he finds he does often with Nagisa too. It's a look Haru pointedly feigns disinterest at by focusing on a red strand in his sketchbook.

"Okay. So you don’t know Makoto, he wasn’t a model in your class and your fucking sketchbook is a prodigal shrine to him?"

He lifts the stray hair to Rin's view and frowns. "It’s not a shrine."

"You know, I can introduce him to you."

\- _The dumb idea_

"He works at a cat cafe Nagisa dragged me to one time.” Haru raises an eyebrow in question when Rin tags on a ‘Don’t ask, long story’. “Also, I’m pretty sure he goes to your school."

\- _The headache_

"Shit, he's probably on the clock today. You wanna go check it out? It’s a fucking cat cafe so I’m sure they have mackerel to suit your weird ass tastes."

\- _Mental sanity_

Haru sighs. He sighs a lot around Rin. “No, I don’t care, and no.”

"He swims too. Pretty damn good from what Nagisa tells me,” Rin answers, unfazed.

_Swimmer_. Not basketball. Haru notes that this 'Makoto' has good tastes. Also, he’s sure this is some version of ‘the trump card’ because now he feels himself being pulled in.

“Good for him.” He doesn’t care. He shouldn’t care.

“Yeah, well, since the guy is all over your notebook the least you can do is meet him, right? Don’t bother to give me your bullshit. We’re going to the cat cafe tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Haru finally meets Makoto face-to-face next chapter.


End file.
